That Which You Cannot See
by Bereft
Summary: Found injured and blind in the forest, a woman discovers that recovery is a multifaceted process with the help of the Elvenking.
1. Chapter 1

_Honestly, it's been so long since I've written anything LoTR that I'm positive there are some inaccuracies in here. But I was feeling nostalgic and I'm trying to get my creative juices flowing for another project I'm working on, so forgive me if it's a little rough. Here we go!_

She was awakened by the pain.

It reached her slowly – a dull ache that pierced her slumber and drew her closer to consciousness until it was no longer a faint throbbing in her bones, but sharp and agonizing. She could feel it winding down her neck to her spine, into each of her toes and fingers, bringing clarity as it went.

Her neck was bent at an odd angle and she realized that she was laying on her side, curled into herself, her arms tangled around her knees. She shifted her head back with a groan, her muscles resisting the movement before giving in to relief.

She cautiously unraveled her arms and stretched her legs out, her movements halting and her limbs shaking. Whether it was from disuse, pain, or the cold fear that was beginning to settle deep within her chest she did not know.

Her ribs – they hurt the most. Closely followed by her left ankle. And her eyes...why couldn't she open her eyes?

She reached trembling hands up to her face, tracing from chin to cheek; the normally smooth skin was rough with debris and scratches. And as her fingertips, slow in their trepidation, slid up to her brow the skin began to rise and harden, becoming tender to the touch. Her eyes were swollen, from brows to cheek bones, and sealed shut by a residue that was thick and sticky to the touch. With light hands, she rubbed at the substance. It curled and lifted beneath her fingertips, as if it were warm wax, and she continued for several minutes until she had removed it all.

She attempted to separate her eyelids, at first the usual way – by simply opening them. When the lids remained tightly closed, she began to pull at the bruised skin, her breathing coming in heavier as anxiety mounted within her.

 _Useless._

She couldn't see.

The fear she had felt niggling in the back of her mind – it had waited patiently for her to get her bearings, until she could fully grasp her dire circumstances, but it would wait no more. It took her over, dropping her heart into her stomach and closing her throat until air was scarce and colors burst behind her closed lids.

Her hands fell away from her face and she felt the liquid heat of frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. They trickled from the corners and spread into several channels, causing her to wince as they spread over the fresh cuts scattered across her features.

She had to focus. She had to figure this out.

Taking a shaky breath, she pulled the sleeve of her dress over her wrist and gingerly wiped at her eyes. The skin had become slick and irritated, and it burned a bit in the breeze.

 _Where am I?_

Grass – she had noticed it tickling her skin, a sensation she ignored previously but now used as an anchor to reality. She brought her hands from her face and to the ground – it was cool and crackled beneath her touch. Leaves – fallen to the ground and transformed by the autumn chill.

She swept up handfuls of them and crushed them in her hands, over and over, as she cast out her senses out like a net.

She was cold, she realized. The dampness of the earth had soaked through her dress.

 _Why was she outside?_

A fierce wind blew, whistling through the trees and leaving a trail of goosebumps across her skin in its wake. She briefly considered rolling herself back up in defense, but ruled against it out of pity for her cramping muscles.

 _Why was she on the ground?_

She'd been traveling to Laketown on her brother's request. His wife, Annea, was pregnant and due this month. He had thought she would enjoy the company, as in Annea's current status she was frequently indisposed to public outings, and would appreciate any help she could receive upon the baby's arrival.

She had agreed, happy at the thought of seeing Kaernen again, and thrilled to leave Rohan and her father's control- if only for a little while.

And that had turned out well...

Her hands continued their work against the surrounding leaves, relaxing and contracting, silence followed by a crunch and snap.

A tree behind her creaked and her hands ceased, body frozen as she listened.

It wasn't unusual that trees made noises, she knew, but she'd heard nothing like it thus far. It made her feel vulnerable, made her wonder why she hadn't yet sought shelter or safety.

Before the panic could possess her again, she forced herself into action.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she flipped from her backside onto her hands and knees, body screaming in protest. Without sight, the movement made her dizzy, as if she were a child again, spinning in circles with a blindfold wrapped around her head.

She shuffled forward, though the direction had no meaning in the blackness that was her world. She held one hand up, swinging like a pendulum in the air before her, seeking out any potential obstacles. Her progress was clumsy as it was loud – she stumbled often and more than once fell the ground with a crash.

Her paranoia continued to grow, though, for despite her raucous charge into the unknown she could still swear that she heard movement around her. She could still swear that she felt eyes on her.

Twigs and underbrush bit at the palms of her hands as her movement became hasty and her crawl increasingly unstable. The guiding arm before her jerked erratically to and fro, whacking intruding plants aside, until the force of her hand struck something firm and unmoving.

Something warm and cloth covered.

 _Something alive._

She gave a strangled shriek and reared back in retreat. Her feet slid in the dirt, unable to gain traction, and in her terror her eyes snapped open. Sunlight speared through her vision and needled her unused irises, causing her to flinch away as the excruciating fire consumed them completely. But still she forced herself to shift her gaze upward, to see what was before her, and just as the fever took her she glimpsed hair the color of moonlight and silver-blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Laughter like tinkering bells and voices that flowed like rivers – it's the first thing she heard when she awoke and it is most all she'd heard since. How long had it been now? She could not say and the bite of frustration made her own teeth clench.

Lifting her fingers, she brushed them across the cloth bound over her eyes. It had become something of a ritual for her to skim the surface of her dressing over and over. She enjoyed the feel of the smooth material, and the whisper of a sound that the fabric made as it moved. It's rather silly, the trivial things you fixate on when you can no longer see.

Her mind wandered as her fingers continued to roam.

The men, she assumed there were two based off of the voices she heard though she could not really be sure, must have carried her here. She had drifted in and out of consciousness and her memories came in jagged pieces that hurt to put together: cautious hands inspecting her wounds. Two voices murmuring back and forth. Her eyes fluttering against the smarting burn in her eyes. The rustle of leaves as arms slipped beneath her. Her head lolled back, feet dangling in the air. Warm, callused fingers around the crease of her neck, guiding her head forward. A steady heart beat. Tears trickling down her . A commanding voice that rumbled against her. Soft sheets.

She sighed and turned her head up and to the left, where a breeze often originated and she thought a window to be.

Where here was, she did not know, but she could swear that deep within the walls she heard a current of water. She doubted that she would've heard it before – when she could see, that is. But she found her ears pricking at the slightest noises, and as she sat alone with her thoughts she imagined the steady hum of water increased until she could hear nothing else.

Most of the beings here, she knew they could not be human, did not speak with her. She was offended until she realized that they seemed to speak another language.

The woman who came to her each morning was able to communicate with her, though, for which she was grateful. Upon announcing her presence with a light knock and a greeting, she would approach, often while she described the weather or the newest delicacy she had brought for her to eat. She would like to describe it as chattering, but to assign the word to a voice that tinkled like chimes in the wind seemed too great a misnomer.

A familiar knock sounded to the front of her. This time, the sound resonated through it the room, but it didn't always. She pictured a great wooden door framed by stone walls, and a slender, faceless woman awaiting acknowledgement, and the conversation that would soon follow as it had without fail in the past.

There would be an exchange of pleasantries as graceful hands changed her dressings and applied a salve to her eyes, comfortable silence as she ate. And then-

"Where am I?"

The first time she had asked this moments had passed before the answer. Lately it was almost immediate.

"You know I cannot tell you this."

"Why not?"

The question would be a statement on her lips.

"You will know soon enough."

She had stopped asking when.

"I just want to go home."

A sigh.

"You will."

Again, a knock sounded against the door. This time the each rap was a slow and decided force against the wood. The change in tenor inspired a nervousness within her that she hadn't felt since the first day she had awakened here. She shifted her body upright to lean against the head of her bed before responding.

"Yes, come in."

Silence followed. The woman that came to her each morning was always quick to identify herself, and she felt with sudden certainty that whoever approached her now was someone she had not encountered before.

"Hello?"

The hair on her arms raised and her ears pricked up, desperate for a hint of sound., her eyes squinting uselessly. She had no time to question the shift of air around her before a weight settled at the foot of her bed. A strangled gasp tore from her throat and she hiked her feet to her chest, her body tensed as her mind flew frantically through all means of escape before she realized – there was no escape. Her breathing grew ragged as her anxiety mounted, and not for the first time she wished desperately for her sight.

"Calm yourself, girl."

She flinched at the sudden words, and curled further into herself. His voice was a smooth baritone, as beautiful as her caretaker's, but he did not speak with the slight accent that she did. She did not trust it, especially as it sat upon her bed.

"I have spoken with Aeluin. She tells me you are struggling."

Her lips parted in surprise, but otherwise she gave no indication of hearing him. He spoke in statements, ask if he'd never asked a question a day in his life. He did not say anything more. If not for the downslope at the end of her bed she might have thought he'd left. Slowly her muscles unclenched, and though she kept her knees pulled in, she allowed herself to relax against the head board.

She thought about speaking for a long while before she could force her lips into motion.

"Ae- Aeluin?" she questioned.

"Aeluin, yes," she doubted herself the instant that it crossed her mind, but almost thought he sounded pleased. "She is the elleth that has been assisting in your care."

Elleth?

The breath in her lungs expelled out in a slow gust. She brought her hand to her lips, and her eyes clenched tight beneath their covering. Suddenly she felt the vulnerability and discomfort that had been slowly fading return as a tightness in her chest and a turning in her stomach.

Her jaw opened and closed as she debated what to say – if she should say anything. Before she could decide, he continued.

"However, she is otherwise occupied today. May I?"

"I- I'm sorry?" she shifted her head in the direction of his voice, skeptical.

Her bed shifted again as he stood.

"I would like to inspect your wounds. May I?" His voice grew closer as he spoke.

Her heart picked up in speed but she was frozen in place.

"Why?" The question was a frantic whisper. She licked her lips and began again, "why are elves helping a strange human girl?"

He 'hmm'ed, a low vibration in her ear, and she gasped at his closeness. He could not be more than a few inches from her.

"I do not like orcs, strange human girl, even less than I like strangers."

A whisper of touch against the fabric near her ear. She flinched.

"Please," he said.

It still did not have the intonation of askance, but she sensed that this was the closest he would, and possibly ever had, ever come. She gave a jerky nod, and before she had finished the movement, deft fingers moved against the back of her head, undoing the ties that fastened her bandages in a moment. She could feel the whirring of his hands circling around her head. Occasionally his skin would skim across her face, or his fingers would brush through rioting strands of hair. She shivered.

In only a moment he had completed his task, and she felt over-stimulated in the absence of his movement. Her eyes felt bare without their covering and she went to touch them, but warm hands intercepted hers, guiding them back to her lap before releasing them.

She heard a clinking, twisting sound, like that of the lid of a jar being removed. Then, a single digit brushed across her cheekbone in warning, before a cool wet cloth was gently patted over her eyelids. He repeated the movement over and over, until the towel grew warm and he stopped to dampen it again.

"Tell me how this happened to you."

She was unsure if she was growing used to him or vice versa, but the order did not seem so harsh as before. The memories he was asking her to dredge up were as horrifying as the day that they had occurred, and had come to her in fragments in her days of solitude. She had shoved them down as they came, unwilling to piece them together, but it was as if she was powerless to refuse his demand, and they returned unabated.

 _Snarling, guttural voices she remembered most clearly. Dark, mangled creatures darting in the forest around them. The small party of hired guards she rode with had shouted out, ordered her to hide out of sight. She had just nestled herself between two thick trees and dense underbrush when she saw them come into the open and attack. Only four she had counted, and yet they were strong, and rabid in their aggression._

 _They bore down on her men, and she grew sick with fear and helplessness as opposing sides both lost numbers. Finally, one Orc and two men remained. They circled each other, tense, and searching for any opening or hint of movement. The Orc grew increasingly agitated, lips curled in a manic growl. It lunged at a man, who intercepted with his own sword, while the other guard grabbed the Orc by its mangled tunic and drew his sword across its neck. The orc fell._

 _She breathed a trembling sigh of relief, and with weak limbs, lifted herself from her cramped space._

 _"Are you alright?" She called out as she moved closer. They turned to look at her, and their expressions changed rapidly from relief to horror. Dread dropped like a weight in her stomach, and she turned to look behind her._

 _Orcs – much more than four this time – charged toward them. Some on horseback, some long legged and quick, some short or more deformed than the others and falling behind. She took rapid steps back, hearing the men calling behind her. As she turned forward she felt a grip around her ankle like a vice, and didn't have time to look before she crashed to the ground and a great weight was put upon her._

 _An orc, one ear missing and the other with heavy bolts throughout, half of his face burned, all of it dripping blood. He scuttled over her body until his face was above her, and his black, oozing blood fell from his wounds and onto her face. She bucked underneath him, grunting and straining out of his grip, turning her head away. He laughed and his clawed hands grabbed at her face, forcing it forward._

 _"Look at me" it gurgled, its hands coming to force the lids of her eyes open as its blood continued to leak onto her, "look at me before you die"_

 _Her scream pierced the sky, his eyes looked into hers and his blood continued to drip into her eyes as he laughed. Rushing movement passed by them, a clash of weapons, yelling, all in a moment. And then an arrow, directly into the orcs neck. His laughing slowly faded off as his life slipped away, she blinked furiously against the mounting pain before a boot knocked against her head and she lost consciousness._

Her mouth was dry by the end of her tale, and she licked her lips, forcing her hands to remain still in her lap as she searched for something more to say despite the fact that she'd spent the last 10 minutes speaking more than she had in...days? Weeks?

"I haven't yet been able to recall anything after that..." she trailed off, nothing left to offer.

"We found you not far from your fallen men," he told her, and she turned toward his voice, her heart swelling with hope. Finally, someone was giving her answers. He had paused his treatment of her eyes during her telling, but now resumed again. He had abandoned use of the cloth; his fingers were bare and warm against her skin. Her eyelids fluttered against the sensation and she forced herself not to lean into his touch.

"I presume you managed to pull yourself from beneath the orc and crawl the distance before losing consciousness again." His hands fell from her face and she shuddered, feeling suddenly cold.

"Impressive." he finished.

Her lips curled up of their own volition.

"You are healing well. I do not believe we need to continue your dressings." He said with finality, and her mattress shifted again at the loss of his weight. She surged forward onto her hands, not yet ready for the conversation to end.

"Wait!" she cried, there was so much more she needed to know, and her desperation was evident even to her own ears, "I-I-"

She could think of nothing to say that would prevent his leaving, so instead asked the first question that came to mind.

"Where am I?"

She felt increasingly foolish as the minutes passed with no response, her fingers curling around her blankets until they were knots beneath her hands. She wondered if he stood there, watching her, or if he'd gone before the words had even left her lips.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked, the question emanating from close enough to suggest that he'd not moved from the foot of her bed, that he'd stilled upon hearing her plea. She got the sense that this was not a man- no, elf- that often concerned himself with the wishes of others. The thought pleased her for reasons she could not name, and gave her cause to offer him the only piece of information that she had to left to withhold.

"Cadi," she said, her throat tight around the syllables.

His response was immediate this time, and his voice softer than before.

"Welcome to Eryn Lasgalen, Cadi."


End file.
